


Tell Me Something Good

by starfallinginlove



Series: The Stories We Were Told [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Heavy Angst, Kidnapping, and hybern, i really hate Tamlin, just saying, kind of a next gen fic towards the end but not really?, nessian child
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-04-04 17:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14025447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfallinginlove/pseuds/starfallinginlove
Summary: Feyre finds out Nesta is pregnant and gets Cassian out the way so Nesta can set up for the dinner party where she reveals all. But, because nothing ever runs smoothly in fanfiction, Cassian and Feyre get taken and lots of angst ensues.





	1. Prologue

One year. One pregnancy. Two deaths. One tragedy. One name.

The year that changed the Court of (broken) Dreams forever...


	2. Surprise?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was meant to be published tomorrow, but I finished it and couldn't resist the temptation to publish it now! While writing this chapter, I listened to Harry Styles' song Kiwi!

Nesta being pregnant was the second best surprise Feyre had had this year (second only to them adopting the cute  _draak -_ which she could only describe as aminiature dragon -  called Blaze that got rejected from its pack for not being able to breathe fire).

She was only too happy to get Cassian away so Nesta could set up the House of Wind for her dinner with Cassian, where she would break the news.

Cassian knew that Feyre was keeping a secret though, and he was having none of it.

"Tell me." He growled, swiping forwards with his Illyrian blade with deadly accuracy. But, with her years of training with him, Feyre deftly ducked out the way and counter-attacked with a swift roundhouse kick, pinning him under her on the soft, leaf-addled ground, somehow with  _both_ of their blades at his throat.

"No, you big oaf!" She squealed as Cassian dislodged her with a slight struggle and began to tickle her.

Cassian barked a laugh and stood up, towering over Feyre. "You need to stop being ticklish. Could you imagine what our enemies would say? That all you needed to do to win a fight with Feyre Archeron,  the feared High Lady of the Night Court with the magic of all seven courts would be to tickle her?"

"I think we'd all be quite amused." Spoke a sardonic voice, at the edge of the clearing. "Should we try it out?"

Feyre and Cassian whipped around, drawing blades in synchronisation. Feyre noted the male who had spoken and the dark, ethereal cruelty of his features - the seal on his black cloak.

A Hybern general.

And, behind him, a whole Cauldron-damned army.

Feyre looked towards Cassian and tried to winnow. She knew as skilled as they were, they couldn't fight and win against what looked like a three thousand strong rebel force from Hybern. But her magic slid past her, like viscous oil, just as she rallied them to disappear and return with their Inner Circle.

"Hybern's spellbook has  _such_ handy magic blocking charms in it." Again, the general smirked that cynical smile that drove fear into her heart.

With magic, they wouldn't have stood a chance.

Without it... Feyre hoped for a quick death for both of them. However, by the look on the general's ugly, beautiful face, they wouldn't be getting even that.

She turned towards Cassian.

"Together?" Feyre grinned, baring teeth to the crowds of Hybern rebels.

Cassian threw his blade around like he would a boomerang. It sliced through necks like butter, until it returned to his hand.

"Together." Cassian snarled.

Feyre slashed her blade, knocking back the oncoming onslaught. She settled into the rhythm of battle.

Strike. Remove the blade. Repeat.

The first lines of soldiers were gone in seconds.

Cassian was a whirlwind, settling into the dance of death, of battle, swiping and jabbing and decapitating.

But even they could never be any match for any Hybern soldiers.

A shortsword stabbed into Feyre's shoulder, above her heart, and she thumped to the ground, groaning in agony. Whatever poison on that sword was burning on her skin and in her blood and she could feel the edges of her vision blurring. Feyre could barely breathe and there was blood everywhere and on everything and she couldn't be taken but she couldn't stand up and she was going to die. She was going to die; either here or in a barbaric Hybern camp where the Mother only knew what they would do to her.

Then Feyre heard Cassian bark in anguish and she realised she couldn't give up. She couldn't sign her own death warrant. Some force gave her the energy to stumble up, grabbing more blades from where they were hidden in her leathers. She cut through the Hybern soldiers, in a half-conscious, adrenaline-fueled run towards her friend.

The last thing she saw before the hilt of the sword slammed into her head was Cassian lying soporific on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading Tell Me Something Good! The next chapter will be published not next Friday, as I'm in Greece with my bestie, but as soon as I get back on Monday!
> 
> What do you think about the chapter? All feedback is very welcome! Do you think Feyre and Cassian will be okay? Leave your thoughts in the comments, and if you want, hit the kudos if you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> Thanks,  
> starfallinginlove


	3. Well This Is Fun!

Feyre awoke to the drip of stale water onto cold, harsh stone. As her body adjusted to the aching and searing pain in her limbs, she blinked rapidly, trying to dispel her dizziness and make sense of her surroundings.

Feyre heard movement sound from the other side of the small cell. She tried to push herself upwards get a better vantage point, but shackles of the same cobalt blue stone that had once ensnared her Rhys were attached to her arms and legs. Feyre reached for her magic, however to no avail.  She was as good as mortal. Almost.

Adjusting to the dark, Feyre could make out the hunched figure in the corner and... Illyrian wings.

"Cass?" She breathed out, her throat hoarse from her screeching.

"Thank the mother you're awake." He replied. "I was getting worried."

Feyre noticed the same blue cuffs that held her down on him.

"How long have we been here?" She asked him. "And do you know where we are?"

"I woke up about a day ago," Cassian answered her. "And I have no idea where we are. Some Hybern camp, but where, I have no idea."

Feyre looked upwards towards the little bone-barred window that didn't do anything for lighting up the room. She couldn't see anything apart from a sky laced with tumultuous clouds.

Somehow, she could never imagine Hybern sunny.

Feyre tried - and failed - again to sit up, but as her eyes got more and more used to the dark, she saw more and more. Including a puddle of water underneath her. Trust her to not only get captured but to end up lying...

No, not water - it was blood she smelt, still pouring out of the deep wound in her shoulder.

Without medical attention, the gash would become infected within hours - if not already, and if she remembered correctly, she had felt the distinct tang of poison as the sword went in.

"Shit." She whispered into the gloom. " _Shit!"_

"What is it?" Cassian immediately went on alert, reaching for the sword that wasn't there. He looked towards her in confusion.

"Blood." She said. "Lots of it. From my shoulder. And there was poison on the sword when it went in."

Through the thick, dim air, Feyre saw Cassian's eyes widen in utter panic.

He immediately went into what their family liked to call 'Commander Mode'.

"Are you dizzy?"

"A bit."

He gave me a disarming glare.

"Okay, yes."

"Can you see any other substance pouring out of the wound?"

"No. But it is a bit dark." She replied.

"Smell it." He said.

"What?" Feyre laughed and then grimaced at the wave of pain that hit her.

"Smell the wound, and tell me what you smell aside from the blood. I know a lot about poisons." 

 _He would_ , Feyre thought. He didn't become - and stay - the commander of the Night Court's armies for nothing.

Feyre craned her neck to sniff the deep wound. At first, even her Fae sense of smell couldn't get past the overwhelming tang of blood that made her want to vomit. She was tempted to pull away, and just lie on the bitter cold stone - or bone? - floor until she died, from either blood-loss or poison. Instead, she just shoved her freckled nose deeper towards the wound.

There was again nothing, until...

"It's like cinnamon, but sour like lemon or oranges and I think smell cherries." She answered.

"Hydroblatojaquoplantine," Cassian replied.

"You what?"

"Hydroblatojaquoplantine." He repeated. "It's an extremely rare, non-fatal poison which is pretty much the same as Faebane, but lasts a lot longer than it, and is way more powerful than it. So at least you won't die from it. But means you are healing just like a human."

"Great," Feyre muttered.

She flopped back against the chains and stared up at the ceiling, resting her head on the wall., _Definitely bone_ , she thought.

"I'm glad to see you both awake," A sadistic voice by the entrance of the cell spoke quietly, the unspoken threats hanging in the air.  _Torture time._

"I'll be taking Feyre Darling over here if that's okay with you, Cassian?"

As he entered the cell, Feyre saw he was the same Hybern general who took them. Cassian lunged for him, swearing profusely, but the shackles held him back from getting anywhere near him.

The general delicately marched towards Feyre. She tried to kick his shins as he approached, however to no avail.

His bone white fingers deliberately twisted inside and around the wound as he undid her shackles. Feyre hissed in agony and tried to bite his fingers. Multiple more guards moved in, to flank him and unshackle Cassian. His guttural growl as they savagely scratched his wings was painful to hear.

They were roughly hoisted up and led down a cavernous hallway eerily similar to the one leading to her cell Under the Mountain.

Feyre's breathing quickened as she began to see so many likenesses to that Gods-awful place. The windows. The darkness. The despair.

In fact, Feyre felt like she had walked down this hallway before.

"Recognise this place?" He smirked. "Welcome back to Under the Mountain, Feyre darling."

A deafening, silent roar filled Feyre's head. She struggled to breathe, panic locking up her muscles. She had never entertained the possibility of going back Under the Mountain. She thought she had escaped.

 _Rhys,_ she thought.

He would know to look here - he knew this place was here, which was better than some random camp on Hybern. But then again, this place was fully sealed off. The Mother only knew how the Hybern rebels managed to get in here in the first place.

They were lead through  _her_ throne room, and Feyre saw the blood pool where she had had her neck snapped and died had not been cleared away. It was still there, crusted on the grand flooring so similar to the Court of Nightmares.

They didn't stop in the throne room.

The kept walking, into a room that she had once, long ago, cleaned the fireplace of for one of her challenges.

A wrinkle of his nose and the paling of Cassian's face told her that he could taste it in the air as well. It smelt so much of her mate, and of that Hybern demon that still sometimes haunted her nightmares.

This was Amarantha's room.


	4. On Edge

Amaratha's room was dark, and the shadows that hid by the walls seemed to claw at Feyre, as she hung limply in the chains at the whipping post. It was not the sweet, comforting darkness of Rhys or the all-knowing shadows of Azriel. No, it was creeping terror; an interminable, tortuous death.

She hadn't made a single bark of protest or screamed or cried, to satisfy the sadists doing this to her and Cassian. Even so, her innate strength and determination was slowly but surely drifting away from her.

"Somebody is feeling brave today." The sadistic general smirked.

Feyre spat blood into his face.

The Hybern general wiped the splatter off unhurried.

"What would it take to break you Cursebreaker?"

The High Lady of the Night Court leveled a stare that promised death at him. She cocked her head to the side.

 _Try me_ , she said without words.

For Feyre Archeron was still a wolf.

And she would never be caged.

"Maybe we could see what your mate," He sneered, undeterred, "Liked to do while he was under here. While he was in this very room."

Feyre's ears hollowed out, and all she could hear was deafening static.  _How dare he talk about her mate like that?_

"Don't you dare." Cassian snarled, his glazed eyes becoming feral.

The monster slid his gaze to Cassian, and his face broke out into a smile.

"What would you give me?" He grinned.

Cassian tensed against the chains.

"Your wings?" He said, stroking the intricate membrane of them.

"No," Feyre breathed.

She couldn't - she wouldn't - let him give them up. She knew any Illyrian would prefer death than lose their wings.

"Feyre," Cassian warned.

"Don't worry," The general laughed, "What use would I have for your pretty wings? Or your little High Lady over there. What did Tamlin call her? Spoiled goods."

Cassian growled, but under the anger, he seemed relieved that the general would not hurt his High Lady like that.

The Hybern general motioned for the soldiers to continue the torture and swooped out of the room.

The whip slapped down onto the already broken skin, and Feyre's consciousness slipped away, like the tide going out to sea.

-

"Rhys," she whispered as her mate entered the cell, flanked by Azriel and Mor.

Rhys didn't move towards her. Instead, he stared, off into the distance. Feyre tried to turn towards him - and was surprised when she could. Her shackles had been removed.

In the corner, she saw her - Amarantha. Her evil face and bright red hair shone in the faint light. Feyre's friends kept on walking towards the evil queen.

Feyre was frozen to the spot. She couldn't move from her place in the eerie damp cell. She couldn't stop her family as the walked towards her, to their imminent pain and death.

She couldn't stop it as she turned back around and saw Nesta and Elain chained to the wall where she was hours earlier, being whipped by that Hybern general with the sadistic smile. Nesta hung, dead in the chains but Elain was still there, still screaming in agony.

She couldn't stop it as she spotted Cassian lying on the floor lifeless.

She couldn't stop it, she couldn't stop it, couldn't stop it, couldn't stop, stop, stop, stop.

"Feyre!"

She couldn't breathe, she couldn't-

"Wake up!"

She couldn't, she couldn't, she couldn't-

Feyre woke up from the nightmare like a fish being pulled from the ocean.

The dreams kept their evil, oily grasp though - breathing was still difficult and she was paralyzed with fear.

"Fight it Feyre."

And she did. As she started to come to, she noticed the flaring pain along her back - pain inflicted by that Hybern monster in that gods-awful room.

She saw Cassian hovering above, worry flashing clear over his sleepy, disheveled face, his hands clasped in hers trying to keep her again from succumbing to the terror of the nightmare.

Feyre managed not to vomit all over the floor, if only because they would have to deal with the smell, for the Mother knows how long..

Cassian helped her t sit up, leaning against the smooth, bone wall. Feyre didn't remember being taken back to this room as the pain had rendered her unconscious, but they can't have locked them back into the shackles, probably thinking the pair of them would be too weak to fight against them.

 _Hybern's first mistake_ , Feyre thought, _hopefully of many._

"You okay?" Cassian asked.

Feyre nodded.

"We need to get out of here." She whispered.

"We will," He promised, "We will"


	5. And I'm Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to Gold by Kiiara while writing this chapter <3

Feyre had long lost track of how long they had been held captive. Days had drifted into weeks and months, and anyway, what was the point of knowing? It would not change their current predicament one bit.

Life had settled into a grey-walled, shackled routine. The pain was constant, and in Feyre's eyes, a pleasant welcome after the gnawing ache of hunger. Food was sparse and reminded both her and Cassian of earlier times filled with ugly memories and starvation. Even the biting cold that whipped through the lone window gave them a sense of deja vu.

The only thing that gave them comfort was the sight of sparkling stars on clear nights through that barred opening to the outside world.

Feyre just wanted to go home. Wanted to be in the warm embrace of her beloved mate, instead of the clawed grip of the shackles keeping her magic at bay.

It was the idea of being with her mate, with her whole family that kept her spirits up.

And as Cassian promised her time and time again, after every brutal lashing, she would be.

So Feyre's spirit never broke, much to the dismay of the barbaric Hybern generals holding them.

However, one day, something changed.

A lapse in the control and concentration of the guards holding them maybe?

Feyre and Cassian were being hauled into the torture chamber when Cassian realised that none of the sadistic males had a grip on his legs.

The High Lady of the Night Court watched, with baited breath, as Cassian kicked out at the guards, knocking them on the floor with an echoing thump. He lunged and grabbed their swords whilst they fell, settling into a ready position against the inevitable onslaught of more guards.

The sentries holding back Feyre let go of her, to race towards Cassian, but even in her malnourished state, before they could react, the guards were lying dazed on the ground after strong jabs to the head, from the hilt of a shortsword.

"Run," Murmured Cassian, not wanting to alert anyone else to their impending escape.

The pair weaved through the endless stream of corridors, only stopping to scout at each crossroads in the paths.

Feyre's breath was exhilarating through her lungs, panting after probably months of no use. She was finding it extremely difficult to breathe.

Cassian suddenly stopped as they reached a crossroads filled with angry sentries in their path. The winding corridors had culminated all into one long final stretch, seemingly impossible to navigate due to the blockage of Hybern bastards.

Cassian took down the soldier in front of him in one powerful blow of his fist, and quickly stole his armoury, throwing another longsword, not unlike an Illyrian blade in design, to Feyre.

Feyre settled her grip on the knife, standing in a surefire ready stance. She parried and slashed with the blades, wielding the weapons with care and ease, even though she hadn't touched blades in months.

As they got further and further down the corridor without serious injury, Feyre felt hope stir in her heart, unfamiliar after the time spent in that piss-filled cell. Gone was the broken silence, replaced with an animalistic hunger that would do anything to escape.

Feyre could feel a slight amount of power trickling through her veins.

She could winnow.

Moving sideways towards Cassian, she relayed that bit of important, life-changing information almost silently into his ear.

A grin lit up his face as Feyre gave up with the pointless parrying and just started to sprint towards the end of the cavernous hallway.

They just needed to get past those stupid wards first.

Feyre heard Cassian grunt, then a barked order of "KEEP MOVING".

It was probably just a little slash to his wrist or thigh, nothing dangerous.

As they moved forward towards the exit, Feyre could she actual gods-damned light.

The barred contraption of a window in their personal hellhole hadn't done the brightness outside during daytime a single bit of justice.

Feyre had begun to forget what light looked like, but now... She would do anything to get to it.

After what seemed like frantic hours, Cassian and Feyre finally reached the glass, bolted door at the end, which they immediately smashed through, not worrying about the lock on it. Feyre savoured the pain as tiny fragments of glass cut across her skin.

It meant freedom.

Squeezing Cassian's hand, she turned around to survey the carnage they had left behind, feeling a sick sense of pride and achievement.

Barrelling up all of her energy, she winnowed away with Cassian, to a field she had once been in, when in the middle. Near the death place of her Suriel.

Feyre twisted around to properly look at Cassian and was suddenly filled with horror.

The grunt that she had heard come from him, it wasn't caused by an empty hit to an insignificant part of his body.

It was caused by the sword stabbed through his shoulder, just resting over his heart.

"Cassian," She murmured, not wanting to scare him.

"I know," He whispered back, his breathing wet and filled with anguish.

Feyre moved towards her friend, helping him begin to lie down on the grass.

"They were aiming for you," Cassian muttered deliriously, "So I moved in front of it."

"Thank you," Feyre smiled in reply, "But unfortunately, this is going to hurt."

"Like it doesn't hurt already," Cassian joked.

Nobody laughed, for once.

While he was slightly distracted, Feyre stealthily yanked the sword out of his shoulder, careful to take it out on the exact same path it had been sliced in with.

She inspected the sword and noticed the floral scent wafting off of it.

The sword was poisoned.

"I thought so," Cassian said, "Getting stabbed in the shoulder doesn't normally hurt that much."

Feyre had obviously spoken that particular sentence out loud.

"You're going to be fine," She whispered. "Trust me, drink some of my blood."

Cassian looked towards her questioningly but drank Feyre's blood after she sliced along her wrist, with the tip of an arrow. It started to heal, though very slowly.

Feyre waited for her powers to kick in and for Cassian to start healing for hours, even as the sun began to set. But, probably from the stifling of her powers, it didn't work.

Feyre sighed in defeat and watched the shaking rise and fall of Cassian's broad chest. She was so tired, but she needed to keep watch, needed to constantly check he was still breathing.

Eventually, Cassian woke up from his slumber.

"You can go to sleep you know," He muttered.

"Ok," Feyre said back, and, leaning on a long log, she began to fall asleep.


	6. Tell Me Something Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait until Friday to post this! Enjoy :) 
> 
> I really recommend to listen to My Friends by Oh Wonder whilst reading this (it helps with the emotional destruction).
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ypofGDdHpo

Feyre looked down at Cassian, and at the wound in his shoulder which was covered in an oily sheen. Having woken up mere moments ago, her eyes were still bleary from sleep. She pressed her hand over his brow, trying not to wake him. He was burning up.

She needed to find a Suriel. Feyre had tried to give him her blood, but the Faebane-like poison still travelling through her system had blocked off her healing abilities, and the winnowing she had done earlier had made sure what had remained was gone as well.

Getting up, she threw one last glance at Cassian over her shoulder and trekked into the woods. The Middle sang to her blood, and the sparkling trees seemed to part for her.

Feyre found a clearing where she could lay her trap. Taking off her ragged cloak, she placed it inside a snare she had resurrected from the bendy willow branches on the surrounding trees.

Drawing the bow and arrow she had stolen from the guards, Feyre waited for a Suriel.

It was mid-afternoon when, whilst Feyre was kicking at the ground, the deformed shape of it appeared from around a tree.

The Suriel noted the snare on the floor, seemed to beckon with skeletal fingers over its shoulder, and then stepped on it.

Feyre stepped backwards to flank a tree as the clearing filled with Suriel's.

"We won't harm you, Feyre Cursebreaker." The one in the snare rasped. "We owe you a life debt - you stayed with one of our own in its last moments, and for that, we will be forever grateful."

Feyre almost smiled at the mention of her Suriel.

"How can I save Cassian?" She asked.

There was no time to waste - his life depended on it.

"Straight to the point I see." The Suriel grinned, and the chaos in the expression made the hairs on Feyre's arms stand on end.

"We are very sorry." It said, it's expression becoming more sombre, "But your friend is as good as gone. You cannot save him."

_As good as gone._

_Gone._

"No," she whispered. "There must be something I can do. Please just tell me!"

"We are very sorry." It repeated.

Tears trickled down her mud-streaked face.

"Be with your friend."

Feyre stumbled towards the Suriel in the snare, still crying, and as she bent down into the sludgy ground to untie the hasty knot she had put in place, it's bony fingers rested on her shoulder and patted.

At first, she stiffened and then she relaxed into the gesture.

Feyre kneeled there for a few minutes and then stood up.

Without uttering a word, the Suriel's left the clearing. A few minutes later, after she had stopped crying, Feyre did the same.

When she got back to the clearing, Cassian was awake.

"You went to see a Suriel?"

It wasn't really a question; she could tell he already knew where she'd been.

"Yes." She whispered. "And they said..."

"I know. I can feel myself slipping away."

"Cassian," she breathed, "Hold on, please."

"Tell me something good," Cassian replied.

He wasn't going to last the night. And judging by the colour of the sky, Feyre thought it was about 6 o'clock. They didn't have much time.

After all, they had been through, this was it.

The final night.

The final words.

The final stand.

She was praying for one more miracle to a world that had already given her and her family so much.

But she knew he was dying - as he breathed his laboured pants sliced through her soul and left her numb, and yet in such pain. Because Nesta was pregnant, with a babe who would never see their brave, loving father.

Feyre had seen Cassian with the young Illyrians. He would have been a brilliant father. So after all that Cassian had done for her, the least she could do was tell him something good.

Nesta would understand - she would want him to know this joy. In fact, Feyre now wasn't quite sure why she hadn't told her friend earlier.

"Nesta's pregnant." She said.

Cassian's wistful smile and excitement was the most heartbreaking thing she had ever seen.

"She's going to be a great mother." He grinned, "That is if she doesn't kill the baby for all of it's crying."

Despite herself, Feyre snorted. How could this painful moment be the first time she had even smiled in months?

"You would have been a great father too. The best," She whispered back to him, her throat thick with unshed tears.

It hurt to say something like that. Her friend wasn't even truly dead yet. However, judging by the colour of his face, the weakness of his breaths and the greenish tinge spreading from the wound outwards, he would be gone sooner rather than later. But not just yet.

Not just yet.

Cassian's warm gaze understood this. Everybody always underestimated Cassian's ability to read emotions, to just get it, and to know what you wanted him to do without question.

Feyre wished the world had known that side of him.

"If it's a boy, call him Cassian. Obviously." He said, giving Feyre a trademark Cassian smirk.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"And if it's a girl?" Feyre asked.

"Cassandra. Or any other name similar to Cassian. I'm not fussed."

This time Feyre rolled her eyes.

"What? I need to carry on my legacy. They need to remember me somehow. And who wouldn't want to be named after the most powerful - and handsome - Illyrian warrior in history."

"We'll make sure they know how brilliant you are Cass," She answered his unsaid question, "And we'll look after them too."

"I don't want them to have the big gap in their life of a missing father."

"No need to worry about that."

"And if Nesta... struggles without me, you and Rhys will look after them?"

She nodded. It was all getting so serious, so final. All hope had deserted them. This was it. It was happening. She could at least help ease him into the next life. Let him go in peace.

"We'll look after them both. And your child will have the biggest family around them ever. Gods, it won't replace you, but we will be there instead. I just wish you didn't have to go." She said.

"I'll be there in spirit, in heart. I wish I could be there in body too, but I have had such a good life Feyre. And even though my luck runs out now, I don't regret any of my life one bit. I know my baby will be okay - how could they not? So, I'm ready."

"But I'm not," Feyre whispered.

Cassian struggled over nearer to her so he could drape his good arm around her shoulders.

Feyre turned around to study his face alive one last time. 

His warm, hazel eyes.

 His curly, silky hair, glinting in the dusk. 

His smile, capable of lighting up any room, any time.

Both of their tears finally escaped, cascading down their dirty faces, filled with such agony. They held each other for a while, both mourning for a child never to meet their father, a brother never to see all his family again.

"Tell them I love them," Cassian murmured.

Feyre looked around; it was now pitch black, with the bright moon doing little to illuminate the night sky.

"Of course," She replied, "Anything else?"

"Fall asleep with me, Feyre?" He asked.

She nodded and laid back next to him, resting her head on his chest.

"Goodbye Feyre." He said, running his fingers through her tangled, golden hair.

"Goodbye Cass." She replied.

And so Feyre fell into the deepest, most peaceful sleep she'd had in months. She ignored the fact she'd would be the only one waking up. She would face that when the morning came. A part of her didn't want it to come, but she knew she needed to be strong, and not only live for herself - for her glorious friend as well.

For now, Feyre and Cassian slept, together.

And they tried not to be afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry :(


	7. The Morning After

Feyre woke up. Cassian didn't.

When Feyre's eyes opened, the first thing she saw was Cassian's perfect, peaceful face. And the first thing she felt was the hard muscle of his chest. Which wasn't moving.

She sat up with a start, the memories of the previous night rushing back to her.

And she cried.

Alone in the forest, she cried because she was lost and sad and terrified.

Time slipped away with the soul of her dead friend: days and hours had no meaning to her now. It was all just minutes spent without him. Feyre wondered if Nesta knew - if she could feel the absence of their mating bond like she had with Rhys.

Cassian deserved a burial. It would not be grand or ceremonial or well-attended; the trees could be her witness as Feyre spoke her grief and sorrow from her battered heart.

She stood up, carefully brushing down her worn trousers and tunic.

Looking out of the clearing, she saw a field of brightly coloured poppies - reds, pinks, oranges and yellows. Feyre stumbled over, leaning down to pluck the red ones out of the ground. The red ones were the same hue as Cassian's siphons.

She laid the ornate flowers on his chest and began to recite:

"Mother hold you. May you pass through the gates; may you smell that immortal land of milk and honey. Fear no evil. Feel no pain. May you enter eternity," She choked on the last few words.

From whatever blessing the Mother bestowed upon her, Feyre felt a tinkling of flame dance inside her.

She used it to burn Cassian's body. The ashes of his body She watched him fly away into the sky - for the last time.

He was well and truly gone.

\---

It was noon when Rhys and Az winnowed into the clearing.

Feyre locked eyes with Rhys and stood up - the tension, the pain, the fear in that gaze was enough to cleave the world in two.

She burst out sobbing once again, and Rhys rushed towards Feyre and enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug.

"Feyre Darling," He murmured into her lips as they kissed.

His warm arms protected her and she never wanted to let go again.

"Where is he?" Rhys rasped.

It took Feyre a second for her to grasp who he meant.

Nesta couldn't have felt the mating bond snap, then.

Feyre slightly untangled herself and glanced at the singed area of grass.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, tears once again tracking down her face, joining freckles and mud in their paths. "I had to burn him."

Rhys leaned over her shoulder, looking towards where the body had lain.

Silent tears streamed out from Azriel's eyes.

It was one of the first times she had ever seen him cry.

Feyre padded over to him and wrapped her arms around his rigid frame.

When she turned around, she saw Rhys not breaking his eyes away from where Cassian's body had lain.

"You were there at the end?" He asked, still staring.

Feyre slid her arm around Rhysand's back. "Yes. I was there through it all."

"How?" Azriel asked.

"An infection. I tried everything. I even caught a Suriel, but I could do nothing. He passed in his sleep; he saved my life."

Rhys finally broke away his infernal violet eyes from the singed ground and held Feyre as she sobbed.

Her guilt, her agony, slammed down the bond in ferocious torrents.

 _Not your fault_ , Rhys whispered down the bond,  _not your fault_.

"But it was," She cried, "He dived in front of me, in front of the sword. And he died, the next night. So it was my fault."

"It wasn't." Azriel murmured. "He died a death any of us would want to have - protecting you. And not just because you are our High Lady, but because you are our family. And it was his choice; not yours. You would have done the same for him."

Feyre nodded but wasn't convinced.

"We need to tell Nesta," Feyre said.

Rhys stiffened. 

He looked as if he hadn't slept for months.

"Feyre," He said, quietly, "Nesta passed, during childbirth. The baby girl made it, but she didn't."

Feyre almost sunk down onto the ground - the only thing keeping her up was Rhys' strong arms wrapped around her.

Her sister and her brother.

All gone within a day.

She couldn't do this, she never got to say goodbye, and now their child was an orphan...

"The baby girl. What's her name?" She asked, for she had made promises she had to keep, which included that she and Rhys were this little warrior's legal guardians.

"Nesta didn't have time to name her, Fey," Rhys said.

"Cassian wanted to name her Cassandra - Cassie for short."

A soft laugh from the two remaining Illyrian's.

"Cassandra Nesta Archeron?" Feyre asked.

Rhys and Az nodded, small smiles blossoming their faces.

 _Cassian asked us to be her legal guardians_ , she sent down the bond.

Feyre wasn't sure what to expect as a reply. She knew he would be happy to do it, but would he be slightly annoyed that she hadn't asked him first before agreeing to something so life changing? Although, if she had been able to contact him, Cassian wouldn't be dead.

 _Ready for constant crying and nappy changes, Feyre Darling?_  he replied.

Feyre breathed a sigh of relief.

Her eyes swooped around the circumference one last time.

"Can we go home?" Feyre asked, her face haggard and weary.

Rhys nodded, and star-kissed darkness swept them home.

They landed in the lobby of the townhouse. Mor immediately raced out of the living door.

"Feyre!" She squealed, squeezing Feyre into her second bone-crushing hug of the hour.

"Mor," Feyre said back, understandably less enthusiastically.

Mor looked towards Az and Rhys, and they both shook their heads.

"He didn't make it," Azriel mumbled.

Pain lashed against Mor's face, but she hid it quickly. 

Feyre suddenly became very tired, bones aching. Her body was too heavy, mind too weary and she just wanted to sleep - and never wake up. 

"Feyre?" Said a muffled voice.

The world started to tilt and she began to fall, only to be held up by strong arms. Everything was turning dark, and she could barely think.

Feyre felt her body collapse with a gentle thud, and then...

Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feyre is not dead btw <3 (i couldn't kill off three characters in one chapter)

**Author's Note:**

> New chapter every Friday <3


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